mharoleplayingfandomcom-20200214-history
Prison Break
---- Duty Calls Twelve o'clock had just struck on every clock within the prison as guards approached the cells to collect the prisoners for lunch time. As soon as every officer was in place, many of the cell doors swung open to reveal the prisoners in their somewhat unique containment. It was standard procedure to make sure that everyone had been escorted to the mess hall in order to eat as well as social with the other prisoners. For guards this was only a part of the day that they had to deal with, but for the prisoners this was the closest to freedom that they'd get for their entire sentence. The mess hall was large, suited for around a hundred people with long metal tables lined up in rows more inward to the room, leaving space on the outer sides for guards and heroes to walk around and stand as they supervised the prisoners. LED lights built into the ceiling were the only things lighting up the room due to the lack of windows as the facility was built more so underground, giving the area a sort of artificial feel that made the mess hall seem like a hospital. Doors were situated on each side of the room, allowing prisoners from different sections meet in one area where they could enjoy some freedom for one to two hours of the day. The doors swung open to allow officers and prisoners walk through, escorting them to their seats before taking their stand at the sides of the hall. Some prisoners were given the freedom to walk towards the serving station and join a line that was building up behind a railing that followed along the wall where guards didn't wait. However, some prisoners were forced to remain sitting, with caretakers delivering their food for them with trolleys that they pushed around the tables. Prisoners who had parts of them disabled such as their hands or arms were accompanied by a caretaker dressed in white uniform, armed with a taser by their side in case their prisoner acted out of line. Hearing the cart stroll through the vacant hallway was the only event throughout the day that broke the monotony of his situation, with Monty quietly lying against the hard cement wall of his 6 by 8 prison cell, his eyes loitering all over the white walls of what consisted of his tiny world within the prison. With the food delivered, the heavy and crass shackles obstructing his hands scraped along his bed, being greeted by the caretakers delivering his meal for the evening as he made his way to the entrance, being keen to keep his hands in visible before the guards. "Gentlemen, while this afternoon's cuisine I leave to the cheff's discretion, my current accommodations, for lack of a better word...it's hardly necessary for a man my age." Dangling his restraints in front of his guards, Monty took on a meager display, hunching his back as if to display his age in an exaggerated manner. With caretaker feeding him, Monty took this moment to gaze beyond his prison cell, the only moment in which a small window of time allowed him to see through the small gap beyond the door, noticing that across the hallway from his room, more cells lined the opposite side. After his meal was done, Monty took the moment to count the amount of time it took them to reach his cell from the end of the hallway, and the time it took for them to leave his cell after eating, having spent the last couple months since his transfer recording the time intervals to measure the length of the hallway from his room. It was always the same. They get you out of the cell, lock you up with all these chains and rules before marching over to this hell-hole. It wasn't any different for Nero, a man that had been stuck here for two years but feeling like its been ten, yet he was once again back in this mess hall. Looking around, the black-haired man couldn't help but take note of the one of female heroes being stationed with them today, a beauty to be sure with her sun-dipped hair and flamboyant hero suit. But with the sharp, crackling sound that came from the metal food tray being slammed against the table deafened not only his ears but dreams along with it. The vibrations echoed inside his ears as he turned to face the old nurse that Nero had been forced to deal with deal ever since he got out of solitary confinement. He was spotted using his quirk after all. Yet the wart on the hag's nose made it appear like she was a witch sent to make his life a misery, being forced to stare at it every single time he was having lunch was enough to make him want to consider going back in... Yet the violent display wasn't just for show after all, neither of them wanted to speak to each other, as it indicated that it was time to head back to his cell. Not like he could've left his seat anyway with all the restraints. So once the locked chains from the floor had been undone, Nero would once again get up and start marching his way back "home" as the inmates called it. Taking one last look at the female hero from before passing through the door and out into the long hallway filled with the different cells. "Tch..." It was the first sound that he'd made for days now, but what else was there to say? As Nero, the old hag and a guard was walking down the hall, the former model couldn't help but take notice as one of the cells opened and another similar pair walked out of it. Inside, he could catch the glimpse of an elderly man before the door had a chance to shut itself. Guess it really went to show how long they would really keep you in here. The guard that accompanied Nero raised an eyebrow and smiled, taking his baton out to jab Nero's back with the end. "You've been in here long enough to know you have to play nice, Superstar." The guard laughed before dragging Nero back to his cell, with no response from the old woman at all. The prisoner groaned as his body jolted at the sudden impact, turning his head and glaring daggers at the guard in response. But given his position and restraints, Nero felt as though he just had to swallow it and comply. Not that it didn't make him want to turn the man into gold and melt him down all the same. The three continued to walk down the hall while passing by the empty cells that many of the more mild criminals were contained. Nero's behaviour meant that he had lost one of the few opportunities of the day to get out of his cell, though neither the guard nor the nurse had any qualms about it. Their walk didn't last too long as well despite how far the cell was where Nero would be located, passing through corridors that had coloured lines that trailed all throughout the establishment, each colour coded to the section that whoever was following them might need to get to. It was helpful for any of the prison's staff, for sure, but could have been pretty helpful for the prisoners if they ever found a way to escape their containment. The guard mounted the baton back onto his belt and pulled out a big key ring, holding an assortment of brass, steel and silver keys that jingled when they were moved. Sorting through the keys with a keen eye, he pulled out a few of them to unlock the series of locks the were located in the middle section of the door, before swinging it to the side to let Nero in. The cell, like any other cell in the prison, was of a white protective material but with this one suited to containing Nero during his time here. Chains and rings mounted onto the wall were how the prisoner was going to be kept for the day, and with special rules on what if he was misbehaving, seemed exactly where Nero was going to be locked up to. The guard pushed Nero in before walking in himself, signalling for the nurse to stay outside while he finished preparing Nero for the day. The guard put the keys to the side and dragged Nero's restraints towards the wall along with him, bringing him up close to the hoop that was almost chest heigh with him and turning him around so that he would be facing outside his cell. The grinding of metal against metal was the only sound coming from the cell before the guard confidently left, leaving Nero, who now had chains holding him back as well as his feet chained to the ground to wait till dinner. The guard dusted his hands and pulled out the keys to close the door, letting the door slam loudly so that its echo would bounce around the hallways and corridors of the prison for all to hear. "Lets hope you've learned your lesson." The guard winked, revealing underneath the cap his brown and red eye. This was someone that Nero hadn't seen before in the prison, especially not after two years. Blinking a few times as to make sure the change of both lights and scenary hadn't effected his eyesight. Even after two years it still wasn't enough to differentiate the guards in here as they all had the same formal clothing and mannerism, so it was difficult to tell one from the other. Yet this man was certainly different. "Believe I would've remembered someone with complete heterochromia. Must be some new guy with a fucked up fetish." Nero's thoughts wandered as he took a moment to look down as his restraints. "Then again. Guess they'd labell any criminal as pretty fucked these days." --- Meanwhile, at a local Fire Station, Makayla Davis worked vigorously behind her desk, handling paperwork that had been piled there needing her attention. She had only been in the city for a few weeks, but since that time the damage of fires had decreased by thirteen percent. It was safe to say that she was damned good at her job and the fact that she had moved to New York and was able to establish a new Fire Station and amass a new fleet of employees was all the more impressive. Leaning back in her chair, she slid the final paper to the large stack and stamped it with her signature. Her work was done—for the day at least. Lifting her wrist and taking a glimpse at her watch, she gathered the time and was completely shocked. "Aww, that fast?" Slapping her hand to her face, Makayla had surprised herself with how fast she managed to finish today's work. In a sense, it was both a good and a bad thing. She didn't want to spend the rest of her time at work bored. But, she could also clock out early and go back to her home where she could spend a little time with her son. With a smile, she just shook her head. "Nah, he probably has fun when I ain't there." She thought to herself. Swinging through the doors, a young white-skinned girl with blonde hair entered her personal office. "Hello, Ms. Davis." The girl greeted, knocking on the wall and letting herself in. "I'm done with my patrols with the others, ma'am. It was pretty fun! Everyone here is fun and strong... good at what they do too, ma'am!" Makayla's smile was thickened at the sight of the young woman. She was a young aspiring hero who had been undergoing her work studies with Makayla's organization: Sydney Danvers, a senior on her last year of school. "That's good, Syd, I didn't think this kind of work would be in the slightest bit of interesting." Said Makayla, lifting herself up in her seat. "You know, I've been looking at your paperwork. You're a top student at your school and your family is basically rich, you've had no prior work studies, so why on your last year of school when you've already gotten your provisional license?" Rushing to Makayla's desk in a full-on sprint, Sydney's eyes dazzled in Makayla's own matched beauty. Her pink hair bounced as she spoke and question Sydney. Makayla wore a long-sleeved button-up stripe shirt that formed into a brown split down vest and a black long dress. She had unique eyes, mostly blue with pink four-pronged irises, a mutation she received from the birth production of her bloodline. "Because... Who'd miss the opportunity to work with the Number Five hero!? I saw pictures and I know you were featured in VOGUE once before, but I've never seen you up close! I didn't really care about the money, but doing something more, I dunno' community-like seemed interesting. Fighting fires, not many people can say they do that. It's more heroic than fighting villains. It'd help my body get accustomed to extreme temperatures so when I do become a Pro, I would be able to build a bit of a "resistance". It's pretty much how my quirk even works!" Holding her hands up to try and hold off Sydney's excitement, Makayla blushed. "I won't be Number 5 for much longer. A woman's aging, her 40's won't hold up for much longer, once my son gets settled with school, I plan on retiring." Rubbing Sydney's shoulder, Makayla continued on. "Until then, I hope I can teach you everything you want to know." --- “I’m here!” The gates of the high security prison opened. A group of people, bearing the insignia of the New York Police Department walked right through. In front, a beautiful, blonde woman led the charge, her confident steps reverberating through the corridor. Her left arm resting on what seemed to be a saber on her left side of her hips. The group of policemen looked around the facility, most had never been there. It really lived up to it’s fame as a top notch security prison, it had to be, after all, society had been reformed, and now it had to adapt to people possessing special traits, quirks. Tamara Reyker walked up to an official after walking through a maze of corridors. “Lt. Reyker, I’m here to see the Warden.” The woman informed, her voice almost commanding attention. The officer gulped, and looked around at the other guards. “U-um, you see, the warden is indisposed right at this moment. B-But I can take you someplace comfortable until he’a availa-“ “INDISPOSED?!” Tamara stomped her foot on the metallic floor. “Who does that fool think he is? Tell him, to not make me wait. We have an important subject to discuss. I don’t want to bring the Commissioner into this!” “Yes m-ma’m! I’ll let him know. But please, follow me, and make yourselves comfortable for the time being.” Tamara continued to follow the guard, as he led them to what seemed to be a lounge room. She looked around, wondering about the place. It had been some time after her last visit, but some things never changed. This, uneasy feeling she felt, knowing that below her were hundreds of vile criminals rotting in their cells, many that she had put there herself. She lighted a cigarette, taking it to her mouth. As she inhaled, she thought about just wanting for this day to be over, she had a “date” with her son in the evening. Exhaling, her skin crawled once more, the uneasiness this place caused her. “Uuuhhg...I don’t want to be here more than I should. This place will give me wrinkles...” ---- The sounds of hard knocking on a large metal door resonated throughout a large office, pinging out of the windows onto the busy new york streets. Sat in the room behind a large desk with papers in organized piles all over the desk was a gray haired large man. He sat in front of a large brown and gold name plate that read "James W. Marshall" "Who's it?!" James barked to the door, glaring at the door as it creaked open. "Hello, Commissioner James. I've come to drop off a few more papers from some of the department's recent cases." The man said, dropping the papers on the desk before making his way out of the room without looking back, slamming it behind him. "Ugh. I wonder how Tamara's doing." James remarked to himself in a deep and annoyed tone, pulling a phone from his pocket with a matte black case. "Guess I'll give her a call." He said to himself, scrolling to her contact and ringing her number. "She better fuckin' answer." Tamara quickly grabbed her phone, much to her surprise, as she was just about to dial James’s number. “Commissioner! Sorry to ask you this, but could you come by the prison? As you’d expect, the Warden is being as difficult as ever. You know the only one he listens to is you, you’re old buddies after all.” Tamara was fiddling with her hand and shaking her foot. “I’m getting impatient, and I don’t want another earful from the higher ups for my attitude. So...please? You know the business we’re to discuss is of great importance.” Before James could even get out a word, he let out a deep sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He then looked up at the stacks of papers on his desk, squinting back at the phone then back at his desk. "I'll be there in twenty." He remarked, slamming the phone down before Tamara would be able to get a word in, hanging up in the process. He stood up from his desk with a large shove and slipped the phone in his pockets and put his coat on before heading out the door, slamming it behind him, heading off to the prison, the perfect chance to ignore work for the day. ---- James pulled up outside the prison, going through the many checkpoints that protected it with ease, his car recognizable by almost all those who guarded the building. He stepped out and his glare was met by the respect of those who resided inside and out of the jail. James walked right through the doors, dismissing anyone he saw, taking off into where he knew Tamara would be seated, turning every corner as if he knew the prison by heart. As he made his way to the waiting room, he was met by Tamara and her associated, sitting annoyed, awaiting a man who probably never meant to meet her. "Let's get this over with." James said, stepping in front of Tamara, startling her fellow officers with only his presence. News of James’s arrival quickly reached the warden’s office. A massive man leaned back on his equally large office chair. Some instrumental music was being played, as Brock Ward hummed along, without a care in the world. The guard who had just come to inform him of James’s arrival was in disbelief, to the simple fact that the warden had been deliberately ignoring Tamara and the NY police, just to listen to some music. “Aah...” Brock exhaled. “Verdi. A true musical genius. Most people only know of Mozart and Beethoven...Ignorant cretins!” The large man stood up, walked over to the side of the office, where essentially he had a workout gym. He jumped into a horizontal pole a few meters high, and began doing some pull-ups. “U-Um sir, yes, that’s...Um What are your orders? You know the Commisioner has a temper.” Brock kept doing his pull ups, his gaze staring right at the guard. “Who has a temper?” He said with a calm voice. “Oh! U-Um” “Gaahahahaha! I’m just messing with ya’, soldier.” Brock jumped down, walking towards the door, and patting the guard so hard in the back he almost fell face first to the ground. A few minutes later, Brock’s heavy steps reverberated through the prison corridors, signaling his arrival to James and Tamara. The large man arrived to meet James face to face, the two men exuding an intense presence to those around them. Being slightly taller, Brock looked down on James, before suddenly cracking a grin. “Oi, James! Have you come all this way to tell me about a promotion opportunity? Gahaha! So thoughtful of you...” "Promotion my old wrinkly white ass! I only came to see why you're keeping my underlings waiting for so long! And why would that be?! You can play with yourself any other time, but not on my time" James barked, despite his smaller height, his voice still commanded respect and rose to Brock's level. James spoke in a deep and stern tone, scary to those around him, but he and Brock had a mutual rapport despite being in two different food chains, James's insults came from a place of respect and friendship, though few people would realize, which was evident by the scared officers that stood behind him and his niece. "Gahahaha!" Brock's laughter seemed to echo all around the prison. "Yes, yes. My apologies, miss." He said as he directed hilsef at Tamara, who simple scoffed and turned her head. "Follow me, I'll take you to my office, we can talk about whatever your business is there." "Hmpf, about time." Tamara said under her breath. As they walked deeper into the prison, from the distance, the commotion caused by the prisoners was barely audible. Clanging against the cell doors, screams of frustration and lunacy, all of the sort. "Ahhh, music to my ears.' Brock said, as he continued to direct them to the maze that was this high security prison. Sitting again on his large chair, with an incredibly large, and from the looks of it, heavy dumbbell on his hand, Brock acted as if he was going to pay attention to whatever they had come to talk about. "I'll get straight to the point, warden." Tamara demanded. "The higher ups have been talking, and considering the deployment of pro heroes into the high security prisons. A specialized unit, in case things ever go south. That and...' She pulled out some sheets of paper, "Luna Industries has also proposed the usage of their "quirk enhancing" gadgets for the prison guards use. Essentially, an increase in security." She leaned forward, "And us, the NYPD, would be greatly involved in this new project, that is why I, we, came here personally." Brock stared blankly into the wall behind James and Tamara, as he continued to curl the dumbbell. "So...couldn't ya'll just have called?" "No!" Tamara stated bluntly. "We also came to inspect the facility, and determine what needs improving before this project starts. Besides, you wouldn't have answered your phone anyways..." Brock threw the dumbbell into the corner of the office, smashing against the dozens of other workout equipment. "Gaahahaha! You're right! Gaha!..." His grinned suddenly turned serious. "But I'll have to decline, whatever this project is. No one has escaped this prison since I became warden. We have tight defenses and a highly efficient security protocol." The large man leaned back on his chair. "So, I guess that should be all, right?" He said seriously. "Now excuse me, I have matters to tend to. It was nice of you to visit..." ---- Alarms throughout the prison began wailing in the air, filling every inch of space above ground and underground with its artificial cry. Every light inside the underground prison turned red with danger as it slowly dimmed, seemingly altering reality as many of the prisoners and guards jolted up and looked around. This wasn't an alarm that they seemed to use before, or at least know about, with the guards even confused about what the alarm had meant. All they knew what to do was to make sure that the prisoners were in a state where they would retain control. "CODE RED. ALL INMATES FROM PRISON BLOCK O HAVE ESCAPED THEIR CELLS. I REPEAT. ALL. PRISONERS FROM PRISON BLOCK O HAVE ESCA-" "EVERY ONE OF YOU, RETURN TO YOUR SEATS! WE'RE TRANSPORTING YOU RIGHT BACK TO YOUR CELLS." One of the officers screamed at the top of his lungs. Several prisoners took their seat back down on the metal benches at their tables, but some had either ignored the order or simply didn't hear it, causing some of the guards to reach for their fire arms and batons and aim towards the ones who didn't comply. "DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?" The same officer yelled out as he approached one of the prisoners near him who didn't sit down. This prisoner was notably large, wearing only a white tank top and green prison pants, with his head cleanly shaven and tattoos covering both arms and his neck. The cuffs that chained him to the table didn't seem to hinder him as he confidently turned his body around to look at the approaching officer. A smile formed on his face as the guard stood face to face with him, having to look down to the officer seem to make him wonder why he was even still in here, contained by guards who he could easily throw away. Cracking his head from side to side, the voice of the guard right in front of him seemed to turn into a quiet muffled sound as the alarms continued to bellow into the air. His nostrils twitched for the moment as his eyes rolled back into his head for a few brief seconds just as the officer was yelling at him, but upon seeing this strange behaviour, the guard took a step back in caution and surprise. "I bet you didn't think your day was going to be like this." The prisoner winked as he suddenly stretched both arms to each side in one quick motion, ripping the chains apart from the table. The chain links rained on the ground around him while he reached out to the officer, lifting him up off his feet into the air. "NOW!" He screamed as he proceeded to violently throw the guard into a group of officers standing at the door close by. The guards toppled over in the same direction in the same manner as bowling pins, landing on each other as their arms and legs became entangled along with the combined weight pinning them down. Guards around the sides of the hall began approaching the other prisoners who remained confident to stand against the order. Though some guards decided to go ahead and handle the more large, confident one, holding their firearms right before their body with their fingers on the trigger ready to fire. Several of the prisoners followed the large man, some slipping out from their cuffs if they were in any, and some just jumping out of their seats to confront the officers coming for them. Sooner or later the prisoners began to fight back as a brawl broke out between the guards and convicts within the mess hall, prompting many of the prisoners who sat back down to jump up and join the fight, while others cheered on the ones who did, either being too afraid to fight as well or being in restraints too difficult to get out of without help. The guards and heroes, having lost control of the situation joined in to resolve the issue with brute force, but with every space being filled with people it was hard not to get hit from any direction. "GET THE PRISONERS BACK TO THEIR SEATS!" "I DON'T THINK WE CAN DO THAT RIGHT NOW!" "GET BACK UP!" "THERE'S TOO MANY!" "WE'LL SKIN THE FUCKIN PIGS AND HEROES!" "FUCK THE COPS!" "WE'RE FINALLY GETTING OUT!" Voices were drowned out by the continuous loud blaring of the alarm along with the sound of fists colliding with solid bodies and people being thrown into walls, tables, benches and doors. But with the way that the prisoners were fighting, it seemed as though they were trying to keep the police inside rather than actually escape. There was certainly a motive to get back at the prison guards with their attacks, as if it was just years of hate being built up only to be released this very moment where the prisoners could really express how they felt about their time inside the prison. But to drag guards and heroes back into the mess hall and contain the fight inside seemed very coordinated. The prisoners were quick to the turn the tables on their captors, eventually being the ones on the outside of the group and lining the walls as they pushed their enemies into the middle of the room where they would fight off the larger prisoners. Some of the prisoners on the outside would be the ones helping free the restrained convicts still sitting at the benches, patting the other on the back as they did so as many of them had the time to get friendly with each other. "DON'T FORGET THE PLAN. SPREAD OUT! SPREAD OUT! FREE THEM ALL BEFORE WE GO TO THE SURFACE!" The large prisoner who initiated the brawl cried out as he held one officer by his collar and struck him in the neck with a heavy fist. The force causing his neck to shift out of place as the prisoner dropped his victim, who laid on the ground motionless with his eyes wide open in horror. Several prisoners who were waiting along the edge close to the doors looked to those nearby and nodded before leaving in groups. They were free to scour the hallways and prison blocks in search for any prisoners still locked up in their cells, one prisoner in each group digging into their paths under the waistband to grab a set of keys, both in the form of traditional metal and keycard, as they began carelessly unlocking every cell with or without their prisoner inside. Those who were let out gleefully ran out with big smiles on their faces, running into the hallways with no sense of where they were going, as the set patrol groups continued to unlock cells throughout the prison blocks. Category:ComicMaster619 Category:Nearó Unlimited Category:EmperorSigma Category:GeminiVIII Category:Lemasters30 Category:Roleplays